There was a running joke we had in one of the offices I worked with in Ateneo. After every event we planned and staged, we would have an evaluation the day after or soon after the event.
We would thank and commend all who worked, have a simple snack to celebrate and, at the end, the “joke” was, “Tama na! Baka maniwala tayo sa sarili nating press release.” (Enough! We might believe our own press release.)
Reality check, as we would say, is always a good practice that can develop into a good virtue. This Sunday’s Gospel is a rather simple and to-the-point “reality check tool” for those who wish to live a life of mission and service.
Christ states two elements of mission and service. First is the proclamation of the Kingdom of God, and the reward, that our “names are written in heaven.” Translated into more contemporary language, focus on the vision and the mission at hand. Go for delayed gratification—or better still, don’t seek any reward.
The focus is somewhat different from our previous reflection. Today, we see an added and deeper dimension. We are asked to focus on the source of the mission, “the Lord of the harvest,” as Christ says in today’s Gospel. It is God’s work. It is His mission. Consequently, He will bring it to completion.
There is a 1980 film by the famed Japanese director Akira Kurosawa, titled “Kagemusha.” In the story, a poor thief was made to impersonate a powerful warlord who was mortally wounded in a battle. The generals kept the death of the warlord a secret to continue to command the respect of their army and the fear of their enemies.
The poor thief, now a kagemusha, which is a term for political decoy, more commonly called a double, plays the role to the hilt, convincing even those closest to the warlord. The story becomes more complex and exciting, but in the end, the tragedy was, the kagemusha begins to believe the make-believe and develops an attachment to the warlord’s clan.
‘Press release’
In the final scene, the warlord’s army and clan are badly beaten by the other clans and armies. The kagemusha makes a final stand, and you have the image of his bullet-riddled body and the standard of the clan being swept away by the river.
I have always used this story as an example of believing our own “press releases.” Some would also refer to this as the theory in M. Scott Peck’s second book, “People of the Lie,” that after a while we prefer our own lie to be truth—or as media would say, if you repeat a lie often, it becomes “truth.”
Christ emphasizes in this Sunday’s Gospel that it is all about the Kingdom, and in no uncertain terms says it is not about us. It is the perfect antidote to this danger, this temptation, this pitfall. This is the temptation and the sin of the ego.
Often we become the victims of our own success. People who are so driven and highly successful may—not all the time, but quite often—be exposed to this danger. Perhaps we don’t believe in a lie at the start, but as reality gets distorted and becomes more it’s-about-me-my-success-and-myself, then the distorted reality insidiously morphs into a lie.
Ignatius of Loyola has an image that serves as a similar antidote. He suggests we consider ourselves always as instruments in the hands of God. All that we do and achieve are fruits of being such instruments.
As such, we hand over our self to God. We entrust our self—all that we are and have—to him and to his mission for us, a mission for and of the Kingdom of God.
This is our partnership with God. This is our becoming his disciples. This is the deepening of our friendship with him. This is our union with him—in his hands, to serve his mission, to proclaim and establish his Kingdom—and build a better world, our world and his world.
The second element is equally important. As Christ says in today’s Gospel, “…do not rejoice that the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.” It is not about the outcome, though important. It is not about success, though aimed for, worked for and hoped for. It is all about the final goal, which is union with God in heaven.
Again, Ignatius of Loyola finds the right words in the famous prayer attributed to him. Some say it was not really a prayer of Ignatius, i.e., composed or written by him, but it certainly embodied his spirit.
Detachment
The final lines of the prayer are: “…to fight and to not heed the wounds; to toil and not to seek for rest; to labor and ask not for any reward save that of knowing that I do your most holy will.”
The detachment of heart and soul so totally given, totally offered to God and his mission—this is the disciple’s true reward.
The reward is the total freedom one gains in the total offering of self to God. This gift of detachment is the freedom of the spirit. As the Fr. David Haas version of Mary’s Magnificat so eloquently puts it: “All that I am sings of the God who brings new life to birth in me; my spirit soars on the wings of my Lord.”
This is the grace we aspire for in the service of and following Christ to “soar on the wings of the Lord;” to be so free that what matters most, no, the only thing that matters, is God alone.
In September of 1981, Fr. Pedro Arrupe, SJ, former superior general of the Jesuits, during one of the most turbulent eras of the Church, the post Vatican II period, suffered a debilitating stroke as his plane landed in Rome from a visit to the Philippines.
In 1983, during the 34th General Congregation of the Jesuits to elect Father Arrupe’s successor, his valedictory to the Society of Jesus was read for him. These lines summarized the greatness of a man who, with great freedom, offered himself completely to God, most especially in his illness.
“More than ever I find myself in the hands of God. This is what I have wanted all my life, from my youth. But now there is a difference; the initiative is entirely with God. It is indeed a profound spiritual experience to know and feel myself so totally in God’s hands.”
This came from a man who worked tirelessly for God’s Kingdom, leading and inspiring a group of men who made major contributions to the Church, especially during a difficult yet defining moment of the Church.
He had one other principle he lived by. In his active life, he often said, “Tiene usted eternidad para decansar” (We have eternity in which to rest). He lived this with great fidelity and great passion. But at the end of it all, his greatest joy was to find himself “totally in God’s hands.”
